


... Without memory how will you ever find your way back to where you came from?

by pyrogenic



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Emo, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Nostalgia, Not Beta Read, Punk, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25542274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrogenic/pseuds/pyrogenic
Summary: Excerpt from WUZU 89.6 FM, Music & Culture Blog -Shows to spend your Ramen $ on , posted May 30 by RedHawtHabenero:'The band God of Shinobi broke up 4 years ago due to high internal tension and mistrust. Ancient history right, well simmer down kids, its about to get real:The Red Sands Festival in August may get a bit- scorching -and not due to the desert sun. Susanoo is a headliner, fronted by former GoS bassist, Madara Uchiha (they'll also be crossing over on a couple of collabs with label-mate Pop-diva Kaguya, but not the gossip here...)Also playing the Red Sands is new band Flying Thunder God, fronted by none other than Tobirama Senju, rhythm guitarist for GoS and rumored to be object of Madara Uchiha's undying eternal hatred.The first three kids to send in pics of yourselves with signs saying 'Mads vs. Tobs 4ever' at one of their shows wins passes to Red Sands Fest!
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Touka/Uchiha Izuna
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a band au set in a modern mashup of the Narutoverse and the real world. There will be a slow burn to get to the MadaTobi.  
> It is not beta read, if any one actually wants to take on the task and help improve this silly self-indulgent story - Please, I heartily welcome all concrit :)  
> I am not a musician and as such my descriptions of the songs and how an instrument is played may not quite resonate.  
> I am only a fan. Concrit is welcome.  
> I have not written in a very long time, did blast through the latter Shippuden seasons recently, having been out of the fandom since '09.  
> This story's been rattling around my head like the ghost of a mixtape.
> 
> Title is quoted from "The Never Ending Story" by Michael Ende
> 
> No warning's for the first chapter, other than some moderately explicit awkwardly written het. Subsequent chapters will include more warnings as they are posted.

“Touka!” The shout of her name the single warning before being swiftly tackled into the water.

The attack was a surprise and she was caught her off guard, but instead of immediately rising to the break the surface and fill her lungs she planted a foot in the soft muck at the bottom and spun her body around to swiftly capture her attacker. Even whilst submerged under the extra drag of the press of the water made murky by the stir of sediment – Touka would dominate. She was a warrior, her body honed to grapple and twist around her opponent in any condition.

Even if the battlefield was currently a backyard koi pond.

She heaved her assailant out of the pond smoothly following with a leap to bring her to the shore. Her spin and subdue maneuver upon the attacker took only seconds. She heard the ending riff of the same song which had been playing on the radio before the dunking fading out and the DJ starting in-

The radio sounding clearly across the yard over the bird songs of the morning.

“-alright Konoha let’s all remember to fill our lungs and exhale and repeat- hey go and take that smoke break right now if you’re able while all of those lovely endorphins are still skittering around under your skin- smoke one for me too…And our schoolmarm station manager wants me to remind all of our listeners that we at WKHA do not endorse smoking –

“-speaking directly to you little thirteen year old punk you know who you are, it’ll stunt your growth you come from short stock as it is!-“

  
“-the dulcet tones of our station manager chiming in folks…ANYWAYS-  
That sonic tour de force we all had the pleasure of melting our ears was THE WORLD PREMIER of Flying Thunder God’s first radio release ‘Edo Tensei’! Consider this a PSA Konoha – do not listen to this song anywhere in the same country as your ex, I’m not sure what intentions Tobirama Senju had when penning the lyrics as he is notoriously cryptic, just saying though this DJ is now wary about those on my grudge list maybe ending up my hateyoubutneedyourgroinattachedtominenow list if in a tiff near them in proximity to this song. I even felt the tug of my own black soul being summoned back from the Reaper. This is an anthem I haven't heard such emotion out of a fast song with great hooks and melodies in a while, if you've peeled yourself off the ceiling – then JOIN US tomorrow for an interview with Flying Thunder God LIVE at 10:30pm in our studio…"

  
Touka tuned out the radio to focus on glaring at the man now standing alert before her.

  
One Izuna Uchiha, her surprise attacker and the love of her life, was covered head to toe with slick pond muck. Suddenly with another unexplained action his focus turned to grabbing Touka’s hands, pulling her towards the laptop which was still sounding the stream of the local rock station broadcast, oblivious to the green pond water streaming off of him.

  
“IZUNA.”

  
Touka commanded he stop by freeing one of her hands and planting a firm palm against his chest.

  
“After frolicking in the koi pond you cannot expect to be let near my laptop. I’d never get the smell of fish shit off of the keys besides the fact that the combination of Izuna-water-electronics is on the top ten list of never again-“ Izuna had tendencies to impetuous squirreliness, perhaps she had woken him, the impromptu bath punishment for that. She hadn't been sure if he had gotten back home yet (his car wasn't in there) and so had tried to quietly slip into the backyard through the side gate.

The music program tuned low for the past half hour, a low droning which rhythms had helped her flow through the first stretches of her workout, but she had turned up the volume a short time ago, hadn't expected it to disturb into the house. The intoned annoyance seeming to have momentarily paused the peril of the pond monster from dooming her computer, Touka stilled to strip off her muddied tank top. Suspicious silence from her boyfriend had her glance over and catch sight of him properly (for the first time in months- since his band had been on tour and her work schedule had her out town before then).

  
Izuna’s black hair was tinted slightly green with the muck smeared in it, the water forming a perfect drip-drop off the point of his nose. His expression was one of bedazzled vacancy, Touka noted the way his eyes tracked her movements as she wiped pond mud from her sports bra and now exposed abs. She compartmentalized where that expression could lead to later- her adorable spaz of a boyfriend.

  
“So cute”, the sentiment slipped out of her lips and snapped Izuna back into focus.

  
“I am not cute, I am a rock god!” he postured indignantly, if one could summon dignity having pond weed stuck to their neck like some weird ditch merman.

  
“To me you’re both”, Touka conceded, “Welcome home, I missed your flailing Uchiha”. She enveloped his shorter frame in her toned arms, to claim a kiss (which tested of fish water- Ick, physical affection after shower).   
“Now explain Uchiha- why tackle the love of your life into the stinky fish pit-“

  
“-Koi pond-“

  
“-first we’ve seen each other for months! Did you pick up a kinky new fetish touring in Kiri, don’t listen to my cousin try to convince you I’m some land-stranded mermaid-“

  
“That was once, Touka! And I was stoned out of my mind on that stuff YOUR cousin gave me-“ Izuna flopped himself down on the one of the lounge chairs he had led the two of them towards. The chairs which were farther away from her laptop of recent intense focus and the koi pond next to which Touka had been performing her morning katas.

  
Curious, but a welcome sunny spot for Touka to stretch the length of herself out in another lounge chair to dry.

  
She chuckled remembering the might alluded to, “Hashirama still thinks Mito is a mermaid when he gets stoned, it’s hilarious to watch Mito remove any access to liquids or else Hashi will douse her- Thanks for the reminder of cousin torture material, but I don’t buy that as the reason you decided our reunion should be memorized with Eau-de-muck. ~What the fuck~ oh rock god of mine?” Touka let her fond sentiment show on her normally stoic face, turning back to her boyfriend.

  
The question spurred Izuna into sudden focus and he set across the lawn to retrieve Touka’s laptop from the back patio near the koi pond. Touka closed her eyes as the mid-morning sun dried off her body (but didn’t reduce the stink) and tuned her ears to the sounds of Izuna’s return beside her. After some tapping of the keys -“I’m dry now, I’ll sanitize the keyboard!”- she heard the same radio stream she had been working out to earlier key up (with the volume at half of the level) to the DJ introducing a new song from-

  
“Flying. Thunder. God.” Izuna intoned tightly sounding as if he‘d like to add a “fucking” to the band’s name and paused the stream of last night’s WKHA rock broadcast.

  
Stretching her legs more in the delicious sun she asked, “ Mm, I hear they’re playing a short live show tonight at the radio station, did you want to go?”

  
She cracked her eyes after the missed cue of an answer, only to find Izuna staring intently at the distant glass door connecting the back patio to the house. She narrowed her eyes at his motioning her to quiet, some thoughts about his actions were snapping into conclusions, more fun to let it play out though.

  
By some cue or non-cue from the house assured Izuna to relax his vigil. He turned to face to the laptop, intoned as if pained “This one song is better than half of Susanoo’s last album” hit play and gripped her hand while they listened fully to the 3 min. 28 sec. of the world premier of her baby cousin’s band Flying Thunder God.

Izuna gave a satisfied groan as he stepped out of the steamy shower into the slightly less steamy bathroom, which he'd never admit, turned to a sharp tone resembling a squeak as he was promptly wrapped in a fluffy towel and lifted in a firemen's carry onto his Amazonian girlfriend’s shoulder to be deposited on their bed.

“So good to be home, the last week I started thinking about how much I would sell my brother for if I could sleep in my own bed and not a tiny bunk on a stinky tour bus…”  
Izuna’s words dried up as soon as Touka stretched her muscular frame over him, with a nip at his jaw in playful warning “Number 5 on the never again list, speaking of family whilst in bed naked with your girlfriend who knows 17 ways to incapacitate someone with only a fluffy bathtowel…”

  
Touka let her weight off of one elbow to further press her firm breasts into Izuna’s chest, as soon as she was within range he surged up to claim her lips ending the kiss with a nip. Izuna rolled them over with him topping and gazing at her form, noting the way her skin glistened clean and was flushed from the long hot shower, her muscled abs accenting a trim waist and toned hips. He took one firm round breast into his mouth and watched her eyes flutter shut at his nipping and worshipping her form. “…you are the warrior goddess to my rock god, let me worship you with my prowess…” Izuna would deny the squeak that escaped from his lips as Touka flipped them back over with an amused snort “...oh my rock god, leteth me taketh thine offered sword as tribute…”  
Izuna groaned again as she lowered herself onto him and began to rock.

After they had cleaned up a second time that day, Touka continued with her katas, the generous space in the bedroom allowed for an athletic woman of just of 6 ft tall to move freely. Izuna watched mesmerized as always, and with a feeling of deep contentment which had been dismally lacking over the past month of the tour with his band Susanoo. Touka going through motions of forms was always what stopped him short and calmed his ever-present vibrating energy. She was a renowned weapons master and often took roles choreographing fight scenes in movies and documentary shows, as such she had been away for the two weeks prior to Izuna leaving for tour. She caused Izuna to feel protected, as of late he had to be the protector and voice of reason far too often-

  
“Touka, I am NOT meant to be the voice of reason, I’m 28 years old and a Rockstar for fuck’s sake, I should be the one boozing to abandon, looking for loose women to abuse me, and taking all of their drugs they give me without a care for my poor relatives having to keep me in line. A month solid of keeping my spaz tendencies under wraps and biting my tongue so I didn’t bite his head off, I looked in the mirror two days ago and thought I glimpsed my matronly great-great-aunt Uchiha- she used to dress all in black covered up head to toe so that no 'sin of the flesh' could be made by anyone glimpsing her elbow or some ridiculousness like that- and I ALMOST found myself telling him to go lie down and think about what he’s done before he brings shame to the rest of the clan- I almost threw the dignity of the clan bullshit in his face!- he just looked so broken and worn down, I put him to bed in the bunk and got him home and here we are…”

  
“…So that’s why you jumped us both into the koi pond Izuna?”

  
Izuna gave an explosive sigh, burying his face into the plush rug (the curse of the Uchiha family, prone to dramatics), during his rant he had slunk from the bed to the floor beside Touka, as if melting under the melancholy of his story. As such he couldn’t see Touka’s open expression of love on her face (or what he imagined-hoped- she looked like right now all shiny eyed and soft and mouthing ‘cute’ at his emoting). Izuna snorted to himself about what the fans would say if they could see how her normally scary persona was replaced with a more nurturing version whose love language consisted of predominant wicked teasing- oh he’d been mumbling that aloud-

  
“We’ve already scandalized the world with our relationship Izuna, we’ve never been subtle about acting lovingly shit-headed towards each other in public, I’m not good at keeping my appreciation for you hidden- the world however doesn’t often get glimpses of your flailing spaz princess acts, you normally portray the coldly stern and annoyed rock god well. I love having this cuter side of you all to myself”, Touka purred into his ear. Izuna felt a hand begin to massage his lower back and move onto his neck before settling into massaging his forearms.

  
“How are these tendons feeling, I caught snippets of some of your shows on the fan sites and your shredding that lead guitar-it’s probably a wise idea you cooled me off before we properly got our hands on each other- but seriously was it that bad? I didn’t scroll any juicy gossip posted on the fan sites, you know those harpies troll hard for the dirt.”

  
“And you comb the interwebs for it even harder- as I said, I never want to leave your side again my lady knight, for all of my virtuousness has been expended on this last trip, I have no more, it is exhausted and all thanks to keeping my broody hedgehog of a brother in line,” Izuna perked up at the nest statement though, “You’d be proud of me for my tactics, I utilized some of the ones you used to use on Hashirama.”

  
That brought a chortle of joy from Touka “ Oh I hope you got video, Madara must have been out of it if he fell for moves that used to keep Hashirama in line, I thought your brother was more self- aware than my cousin whose intellect sometimes resembles that of a sentient houseplant. Madara even helped to come up with some of those tactics during God of Shinobi.”

  
Touka opened the curtains and the door to the back patio from their bedroom. Beams of sunshine streamed in with birdsong and the jasmine scented breeze. This moment in the bedroom brought Izuna a feeling of peace quieting the nervous angst from thinking back on the tour. Which had been a short pre-summer showcase of their label’s talent. The last concert a few night’s ago in Kiri had them playing an orchestrated collaboration (demanded by the label) with the reigning pop/ wannabe crossover rock princess Kaguya. Madara had made Susanoo dress up in the period costume armor they sometimes wore as a gag (Madara had actually started the war accoutrements dress up gag as a part of their anti-war-mongers protest songs during God of Shinobi shows). It didn’t seem like the pop airhead reconized the subtle dig at her songs being used as supportive soundtrack in the propaganda of the daimyo of Kiri, who was in a not so well kept secret funding narco-war lords in Kiri’s conflict with Ame.

  
Madara Uchiha, Izuna’s older brother was the founder of Susanoo as well as the lead singer and bassist/ rhythm guitarist (to Izuna’s lead guitar and trade off vocals). Izuna had a visceral dislike of Kaguya, she had her manipulations in the press and the label deep- deep enough that when Madara signed Susanoo to the Zetsu Label, Kaguya machinated a contractual stipulation that they had a public relationship as music idols. Madara had been trapped in the public falsehood of a fake relationship for the past couple of years, lately as apparent on the tour the label wanted to step up the music idol drama and had required a pre-summer collaborative tour with Kaguya’s bloated monstrosity of a pop revue and Susanoo’s small band of brooding alt rock/metal musicians. Although nowadays most of their material had a decided emo lean towards the song writing.

  
“Though my stubborn loveable idiot of a brother didn’t think that our fucking passive-aggressive costumed anti-war protest MAY just fit in with the fucking glam production of Kaguya’s choreography- she was dressed in full ceremonial kimono and had basically an army of backup dancers dressed in either black or white- ugh, I like it more when you join us on stage and spar with me, seems to make more sense metaphorically or I like it better than being used as basically a tool for someone else’s spectacle.”

  
Touka’s face lit up at the description of the last concert, Izuna suspected it was schadenfreude or blood lust either way her expression was surely tied to an emotion of pleasure at his remembered awkwardness and the description of the thinly veiled hostility and disdain coming from his band towards the oblivious pop diva on stage with them. “Promise me you’ll not watch the videos of the that show around me please, Touka- at least not until I can continue with my life’s mission of torture of my brother by wittily pointing out his exhibition of his silliness without real fear of it pushing him over the edge for certain,” he pleaded- in a manly fashion becoming of a rock god.

  
“Sure if you join me for a run and lunch out downtown, it’ll help burn off some of the nervous stress, and I’ve missed you,” Touka was pulling on a loose tank top over her running bra, and pulling her long straight brown hair into a secure top knot.

Izuna admired her long legs revealed by the running shorts. “Oh hell’s yes, we haven’t tore through the hometown in a while, I’m sure we can scandalize somebody while having fun, I’ve been keeping up with the training routine you made up for me while on tour.” At her once over of appreciation towards his body Izuna preened dressing in running gear and pulling his own long straight black hair into a secure tail at the base of his neck. Touka slapped his ass and pushed ahead of him out the hall towards the front door –“~Last one there buys lunch~”.

  
They both reached the front hallway simultaneously and paused to tie on running shoes when-

  
-a CRASH resounded from the end of the house opposite the bedroom they had come from, suspiciously near the direction of Izuna’s music studio. When the sounds of a searing guitar riff began to thrash through the walls, Izuna knew his face was scrunched up in a wince that made him look like a squinty eyed kitten, he reached up to Touka’s face and shoved her down as he dashed out the front door- “~Hope you have your wallet babe!~” The screaming guitar from the house didn’t fade out of hearing until they were turning onto the next street.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No warnings apply.

Akimichi Bakery Café evoked the sense of a perfect setting for some shojou manga hang out, the kind of story wherein the main characters of the romance would have awkward exchanges of cute halting words and abundant blushes rivaling the bright florals potted around the café. The sunny spacious open floor plan of the main area near the café/ bakery counter had a netted garden in the center where actual butterflies flew pollinating the flowers of the organic grown produce and the lush flowers- which blooms were often incorporated into the café’s drinks and fare. Hikaku Uchiha admired the subtle shift of the colors on the fluttering wings of the iridescent species of butterfly as it touched upon each flower seeking nectar.

Hearing the clink of a plate being set down, signifying that his order may be up. He turned and took the several strides to the counter, the sweet smell of warm sugar and cinnamon wafting to his nose. The café owner, Akimichi-san, had warm smile for Hikaku as he picked up his cinnamon roll and dark roast coffee.

“Hikaku-kun, when can I send you some of the butterfly eggs for your class?” She called over her shoulder bustling back to the coffee bar to make drinks for the line of customers beginning to trickle in for lunch. 

“Ah, well if you have some in a week, I’ll be starting up my summer biology class, I’ll stop back by Akimichi-san. Thank you!” He just remembered not raise to his hand to scratch at the back of his head bashfully, thankfully so as not to have to tragically decide to spill either the best coffee in Konoha or the best cinnamon rolls in Fire country. Hikaku really needed to stop reading those shojou mangas he kept confiscating from his students. Sighing to himself, 28 years old and still a closet romantic, he retreated to a find a booth at Akimichi-san’s wave of acknowledgement and dismissal as the line for lunch orders was now stretched to the door. The coffee would be just cool enough to savor a first sip as he sat down at a table. The heady bitter aroma from it filled his nose as the wet steam hit his face. A testament to how good this coffee was that Hikaku would come in for a hot cup during the steamy early summer afternoon. An inside booth would be best, fortunately the booth in the corner just under one of the air conditioning vents was vacant. Hikaku had his eyes focused on it as he made his way past the line of patrons.

A sudden blast of warm sticky air blew into the café and a long black ponytail hit his face when the person it was attached to tripped to end up with their face pressed to his chest-

-and the world realigned itself to its normal mess as Hikaku awkwardly juggled his precious lunch fare and staying upright with a sweaty **man** pressed into him. Hikaku knew the annoyance showed on his face as he held his arms akimbo-the sweat smell could just penetrate through the haze of the cinnamon aroma. Trust the universe to damn him to meet-cutes with one of his numerous Uchiha cousins.

“Hikaku save me from my pursuant, she cast illusions upon me to believe her a goddess, alas she is a demon!” Izuna said, but mostly Hikaku heard “MMM mhmhmff ffmmm mmuu.” As Izuna’s sweaty face was pressed against Hikaku. Easy remedy to that- step to the side and watch as stinky cousin takes a large step forward to prevent his fall. Hikaku finished his interrupted journey, sitting down at the booth of his original destination, life’s small mercies perhaps that his cousin’s girlfriend ( _his cousin-in-law?_ ) Touka Senju had saved the coveted booth during the assault from Izuna-from the side door, sneaky.

And his cinnamon roll was saved, the coffee was the perfect temperature to take a lingering sip. Bliss.

“Touka” he greeted calmly with a nod of his head.

“Hikaku” she mimicked back to him, sincere warmth in her smile and that was absolutely amusement at the childish antics. “You Uchiha are so dramatic, I’m always amused that none of you have shown up on the movie sets yet.” Leaning forward with her chin resting on a propped up hand.

Hikaku eyed the other hand that so casually- _too much so_ \- traced the table closer to his cinnamon roll. Best solution remove the temptation, so Hikaku picked it up and took a bite, resisting a moan as the buttery cinnamon hit his tongue.

“Mm-Agreed, but we find other ways to express theatrics, me I get to orate and shape the minds of Konoha’s youth, extolling on the virtues of the scientific method with the occasional explosion-planned or not- in the lab. Izuna as we all know is of course-“

“-a rock god!” The mentioned man finished sliding into the booth next to Touka, setting down an iced oolong/ hibiscus tea for her and sandwiches for them both. His matcha smoothie halfway gone already.

The casual drape of Izuna and Touka’s arms together across the back of the booth’s bench had them leaning into each other slightly. Hikaku inwardly smiled at their open contentment, was it going on five years for them? They complemented each other well, no one saw it coming though, what with the hostility the Uchiha brothers had towards the Senju brothers and vice versa towards the end of God of Shinobi, ultimately resulting in thatt band’s breakup. Touka had been the original bassist, leaving to pursue her martial arts studies further once her cousin Tobirama Senju reached an age that they weren’t banned from show venues for having a teenager in the band. Hikaku felt the smirk pulling at his lips remembering the time Izuna was 17 and the band **actually** **was** almost thrown out of one of their first paying gigs, but Madara put the fear into the bouncer and they played the show – with payment afterwards. Madara had only been 19 at the time but his spiky hair and the damn the world attitude worked well for the band. Hikaku had been along as a roadie/ tech and was also only 17, but his height and serious attitude always led to entry no questions asked- plus he was a master at making fake IDs. _Bad Hikaku, segueing from shojou pining for romance to actual romance to band angst_ , at least he had half of a cinnamon roll as comfort still.

Across the booth Touka was tightening her ponytail band, she wrinkled her nose at the action of lifting her arms. “Sorry to crash your lunch Hikaku, we had ordered ahead before the run- and apologies for any post-run odor.”

He waved it off, “No worries, it’s actually nice to see the both of you, it’s been like two months, I was giving exams to the kids or else I would’ve come out to a show Izuna. And allll I smell is the cinnamon heaven of this confectionary monster.” He was going to need a box to take the rest home after most of a half, those things were as large as the salad plate it was served on.

This statement was met by an eye-crinkle from Touka, Izuna gave a thumb’s up with his mouth full of sandwich. He also scrunched up his face after swallowing the bite, taking Touka’s tea to wash it down.

The face scrunch must have been due to a thought, not too large of a bite, though, “Tour’s done, yay. Talk about what you’ve been up to cousin, we’ve been partners in crime since kids man, remind me of my youth, regale us with tales of the young shitheads you warp daily.” So Izuna was taking a denial break today from the band emoting, good enough for Hikaku. Growing up did mean that your lives diverged and bro hang out times didn’t happen as often. Touka was cool enough to be a bro too, albeit a frightening and gorgeous woman shaped one.

The bustling in the café was calming down, after an hour of Hikaku relating the antics of the class he had this past year, getting into ranting territory as he recalled that some of them would be in his remedial summer school class.

“…this one kid, his volume is literally turned up to 11, I know he’s got a sensical brain in there somewhere, his knowledge of anatomy is amazing-kid can name every tendon in the human body-Touka you’ll have to meet him, you may be able to gain a new minion-but he acts as dumb as a box of rocks he’ll take almost everything literally, has no understanding of metaphor- the entirety of life is a competition ‘Sensei I will surely be the first to singe off my caterpillar eyebrows today or I will have to eat all of the student’s attempts at making peanut brittle while running backwards laps around the sports field’. And his lab partner for some reason, I don’t even know why he’s admitted to remedial class-the kid is a certified genius should be 3 grades ahead- but has basically no social skills- he took it as a personal failing that captain eyebrows didn’t pass the exam and has some wacky austere code of justice and penance or crap. I’m the one who should be punished for them not passing, I’m their teacher! Joy for me to have another round at it this summer…” Even in his flailing he noticed the café starting to close up for the day. Touka and Izuna had chimed in with questions and commentary during the conversation, it was nice to have some cousin time. The two Uchiha cousins appreciated Touka’s stories of her last clients and her new weaponry. Calm outings like this must be what normal people did with their friends; growing up an Uchiha and around the professional musician cousins certainly prepared Hikaku for any abnormality his students chose to mold into their identities, though. He did love it, they were just so preciously cute-the little punks.

Maybe next week he’d ask out the new drama teacher/ girls soccer coach, she seemed to have a wicked sarcastic humor, he’d seen her ranting at the soccer balls after practice. Maybe she would welcome the opportunity to rant at Hikaku about the prissy 14 yr olds and beat him at a one-on-one soccer match.

The three of them headed out into the steamy parking lot, the air still heavy in the summer afternoon, the low ceiling of the underneath of the dark nimbus clouds boded of a storm. Hikaku dug in his pocket for the car keys, setting down the boxed remainder of his lunch.

(“I’ll take you guys to mine to get your car Izuna”

“That’s why I came in the side gate to the yard this morning instead of through the house, I didn’t see your car”

“Part of the thing we are not speaking of”)

Hailing shouts sounded from the café door “Hey!” Nao Akimichi, daughter of the café owner ran towards them and puffing for her breath shoved a bag into Izuna’s hands. Puzzled expressions all around, Nao explained, “It’s the order for delivery to your address Izuna, Mom’s a bit short handed with drivers today, summer-time all the college kid part timers are out of town. Since you’re here I’m going to call upon our high school relationship as bros-friend’s only Touka no worries- and just hand this to you, she’ll comp you free coffee to recoup the delivery fee.” She pushed her heavy spiky red hair off her forehead where it was sticking from the humidity. Shouted again over her shoulder “Touka I’ll see you tonight.” Pointing Nao grinned and ran puffing back towards the café where her mother was struggling to close the roll down shutters.

They used to call her Falling Rock Nao in high school, she would catch you as quickly off guard and hit as hard as a boulder from a rock slide back then too. That matter of fact, irreverent demand worked out well for her nowadays as the host DJ of WKHA’s nighttime radio rock showcase.

Stunned and over sleepy from a full day, Izuna just hopped in the back seat of the car with Touka. Not caring why Touka and Nao were meeting that night, he gave the bag -of food **he** did not order- to his girlfriend and dozed. Fat raindrops pelted the windshield, wiping clean with each stroke of the wipers as Hikaku drove. The atmosphere-that of the weather and not people's moods- felt less oppressive and cleaner, the early summer afternoon storm’s heavy intent dispersing with the rain down the gutters. Although Hikaku wondered if other families could blame the tense anticipation of impending drama, the kind that would build like the thunderclouds before this rain, on a surprise delivery of admittedly delicious baked goods. Or whatever-whoever-that paper bag may allude to.

All three of the car's occupants could name a specific person who loved the Akimichi Bakery's cinnamon rolls as a comfort food, but refused to be embarrassed by allowing other people to know that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter warnings.

WKHA’s broadcast studio was located slightly outside of the college district on the outskirts of Konoha near the old warehouse district which was converting into a hipper art, night life, hipster apartment area. But was still seedy enough for low rent, and the dance clubs and pretentious gastronomy pubs were still a block and a half away up the street.

The streets outside the building the radio station was housed in were mostly dark with an occasional rosy glow of downward shielded streetlights, with the brighter beacon of the few breweries open on a Tuesday. Limited artificial light lent an embracing darkness, numerous diamond scatters of stars were glimpsed in the endless blackness of the sky through the scattered clouds. Residual heat from the concrete rose up, it helped to cut through the slight chill in the night from the recent rains. Touka pulled her sweat plastered tank top from her skin to allow air passage, from her right the sharp smell of burnt paper and tobacco from a cigarette wafted over. The tall young man leant next to her on the brick wall of the side of the studio building, squinting after the forms of the fan girls leaving the studio for the bars down the street, whooping with adrenaline and loud laughter. He took a slow drag on the cigarette, pushing back the short sweat heavy curls of his shaggy white hair. His black t-shirt was just as soaked in sweat as she was though he didn’t seem to feel the rain cooled chill of the air outside of the studio. Touka guessed he’d gotten used to the typically cooler and wet coastal air of Uzushio during the past couple of years at the college there. Her baby cousin, Tobirama, had been working as a grad student in the physics program there, but being the typical multi-talented overachieving Senju he had also ended up starting a new band which was just getting ready to release their first EP during the summer break.

Flying Thunder God’s first live radio set had just finished, they’d played straight through the last 40 min., even though a small number of people attended (or were allowed per the capacity of the studio floor) some had come who were still staying on the college campus in Konoha over the summer and a few had even driven over from Uzushio- the band had played an energetic set and the audience moshed hard.

Cigarette extinguished, Tobirama was leaning up to gaze at the sky, an open satisfaction on his face and a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. Touka knew the nearsighted punk couldn’t distinguish constellations light years away, he never wore his contact lenses during shows, so likely some endorphin fueled thought was going through his head, he always waxed poetic after a good show, “You ever wonder if an alternate reality exists where there’s a song that represents every moment in this one?”

“What, so like every time you write a song and a feel a weird sense of nostalgia over something you can’t remember happening, it’s because of a pan-dimensional tie to your counterpart in another reality or vice versa?” Touka snorted suddenly grabbing her cousin up in a headlock before further speculation regarding space-time. She in actuality practiced kinetics- not theorized about physical possibilities- plus that adrenaline thrum had her hyped. The show was an exhilarating challenge- playing bass on songs that she had just learned over the course of the last couple of months- she’d missed chords on a few change-ups, but overall kept up with the three band members. Even being a small contained studio session, it was fun. Playing with her cousin again, who had taken her place in God of Shinobi, she had a feeling this new band of his was going to hit hard on the scene. The new kid on lead guitar was fast, and tight with the technical riffs, his fingers were probably just a blur to watchers, the drummer was relentless.

Dopily replaying some of the set in her mind, the arm sneaking around her waist was missed, and she was hauled up onto her cousins shoulder- he’d learned how to use the two inches of height he had on her well since puberty. The laughter of the bar patrons down the street cut off as Tobirama staggered them both back into the building’s lobby and up the short flight of stairs to the radio station’s floor.

“Tobs, put me down, Izuna will never let me hear the end of it.” In protest she worked an elbow loose to dig into his back, damn giant Senju genes, the affinity for physical perfection was all well and good-when it afforded her the upper hand not the other way around.

The flash from a cell camera, went off and Tobirama dropped his older cousin onto the couch in the recording studio. That his bandmates were currently occupying said couch was no matter. The angle Kagami had snapped the photos from of Touka falling onto them would be hilarious, it always helped to have blackmail material of his family on hand.

“Well then Izuna can be reminded of my greater physical power for besting you- he’ll remember that he himself is a pipsqueak, just in case he ever needs a reason to not mistreat you,” catching the phone that Kagami threw to him for safekeeping and taking a seat in the unoccupied arm chair near the couch.

Kagami cackled at Minato’s terrified face as the tall woman made room for herself upright on an end of the couch. Minato had grown up listening to God of Shinobi bootlegs of their early years, he used to have a - _'slight Tobirama!'_ -puppy crush on Touka. His posture relaxed but his face didn’t quite lose the deer-in-headlights expression when Touka slung an arm over the back of the couch to ruffle Minato’s spiky yellow hair.

“Izuna knows I’ll always defend him even from my family, you caught me off guard Tobs, maybe Kagami should be considering threatening me for Izuna’s sake, though. How did you keep such a thrilling axe-god a secret? I just may try to rob the cradle and seduce Minato-kun over here.”

Another flash as Tobirama snapped a photo of Minato’s blushing face.

Tobirama scuffed his shoes on the rough short carpet which withstood heavy traffic, the air had a musty smell which the central a/c recycling through a large building never could quite rid of the tang of mold, reminding of the college radio station back in Uzu. All theorizing about alternate universes aside it did seem like some things had certain blueprints or formulas which were followed almost to no variability to create how something would be, such as these two radio station studios, separated by a country’s distance yet providing the same function and having an aura of familiarity. The thought comforted Tobirama, as if no matter how far he moved in time and space there would always be a sort of constant, if he thought of it in those parameters. And sometimes people wondered why he could be so quiet for lengths of time, having quick conversations about light topics was never his strong suit, one of the reasons he had stepped outside for the rare cigarette. Hoping the interview being finished by his bandmates upon his return to the studio…

DJ Nao Akimichi was not one to be detoured around however. She was a friend from high school, and had been thrilled to premier their band, so it was all in good faith he hadn’t just left after the set. Any way her radio show was the perfect format to release their music, it allowed them to have control of the information flow and record an early counter to any latter gossip which was inevitable in the music scene. Nao was honest, even if she was still a geeky scene kid.

The interview had resumed, Kagami answering some question,”-at the college, I had been playing casually with a few local bands, not like sticking with any, hanging on the local scene, studying with my program- oh music and sound theory basically, recording arts technology- so I had a college radio program and got this demo dropped in my box and its named ‘Dance Howl Flash’something so I just forgot about it didn’t want to listen to another shitty indie electro-pop whatever-“

“-yeah I hear you, PSA to all the listeners out there please stop dropping off shitty electro-kitten-skittle-rave-pop-whatever for me to play, it won’t happen - sorry to interrupt Kagami-san.” Nao commiserated, miming a squeezing gesture-perhaps the necks of the ‘kids these days’.

Kagami leaned forwards in pleased understanding, Minato ducking to avoid an elbow to the face from an expansive gesture, “YEAH, kids man! -ah well I’m 24, Tobi’s the elder statesman at 26, and Minato-kun is our kid- although I can’t really say that anymore can I since your 18 now-this KID”, poking Minato,” a couple weeks later comes into the studio all dejected that I didn’t listen to his demo and I had no clue, he hands me another of the ‘FlashHowlDancewhatever’ cds and I feel bad so I play it while he's still there- some of the hardest punk-core with metal influences in the technicality of the riffs blasts my ears-it had serious potential, but terrible percussion and mixing so I shamelessly invited myself to his next practice session.”

Minato picked up the narrative, elbowing Kagami, “It was ‘Howl of the Dancing Flash of Fate’’’, trying to smother Kagami’s laughter with one of the musty throw pillows from the couch, Touka standing to lean against the wall to avoid the playful scuffling, “I WAS a kid and played video games, I’m naming our next song just for that-“ the threat may have calmed Kagami down as he stopped trying to force Minato into the couch cushions. Touka was silently shaking with laughter, a flash went off from Tobirama taking a picture of her and Kagami’s and Minato’s hair standing on end from static.

Nao took a couple of photos while continuing with the interview,” Okay so I’m guessing you guys all met in Uzushio at the college, so what were you doing there Minato-san being ‘just a kid’?” Pointing at Minato to single him out.

Tobirama took pity on the bashful expression Minato had at being asked so bluntly, “Minato’s actually a genius. He skipped two grades in school and was dual enrolled during high school, he was working in the lab with me. I missed music and Minato played, so we’d get together for that purpose.”

Grateful for the interjection, Minato continued with some glee at the potential ribbing for Kagami with the next part, “Kagami came to the next practice session which is what I had been hoping, I’d seen him drumming and mixing for some local bands-our styles just meshed well the three of us so we started playing as ‘Howl of a Flashing Illusion’-I’m aware my names are terrible-so we shortly all agreed on Flying Thunder God instead- banding (haha) together to create something new and maybe expanding on genre boundaries is amazing, I feel we’ll be able to make something good in the world you know.” Kagami was slouching low in his seat now as if he knew what was next.

“Speaking of creating innovative music, they were essentially a hard core band- if you can even narrowly define a dynamic band- with metal influences and later evolving into adding some visceral thrashing emotive rock with well-crafted melodies, who also brought cutting messages about anti-warmongering and brilliant technicality into the song writing, with the hook arrangements and the virtuoso drums, a rhythmic driving bass- Touka I loved you, you’re fantastic, but Madara on the bass if I believed in energy manipulation I would believe he was controlling the crowd with that relentless strumming, and the trade-off vocals- God of Shinobi, which Tobirama played in along with your older cousins Kagami, so did you intend to follow in their footsteps? How cool was it to meet Tobi?”

Kagami blinked at the flash of Tobi’s phone camera, squirming a bit at maybe giving their host DJ an underwhelming answer in the face of her open fan-girling, “I didn’t…listen to them?...really had no idea what my cousin’s band was or who was in it?” Sitting up and speaking more firmly at Nao’s open almost comical disbelief (before she could cut in with a question? or to gain back some of the open admiration which she’d previously focused on him?), “But I didn’t grow up in Konoha, I grew up in a small town far into the country, didn’t really know my cousins well and they were so much OLDER. SO yeah, in the country we didn’t have radio stations that played anything other than oldies, pop country or top 40, so I was never exposed to any music resembling punk or metal until college. I WAS totally a little skater kid, but even a huger nerd, I drummed for my high school jazz band and some of the exposure to other music styles even if they are radio friendly, I think helps bring something to the table song craft wise. But yeah back then, I was clueless in regards to God of Shinobi. I wanted to get out of the tiny town, I’m not a freaky genius like Minato and Tobs, so I worked really hard to get into Uzu, so I kinda just lived in the books and for my mom to try make her proud.”

Their DJ host almost melted, Kagami’s heartfelt honesty always got to you _– careful there Kagami, Nao looks like she’s about to leap out of her chair and glomp onto you_. Feeling the cuteness getting cloying, Tobirama crossed the room to stand next to Touka. Another photo snapped of Nao on the edge of her seat, nose twitching and eyes scrunched with trying to suppress some action, likely trying to stay seated and not squeeze Kagami like a cute bunny. She was such a fangirl, another welcome constant in his life, Tobirama hadn’t seen her for a while, since he'd been in Uzushio finishing his degree, but she’s still the same no matter the distance of time. He could see few superficial changes- the allowance for more of her natural auburn color to show in the choppy hair cut other than the artificial red from high school for one, of course people needed to change somewhat else risk being stuck and left behind, perhaps. If he squinted and focused through the lens of memory- with your third eye, Tobi as his brother would say - he could juxtapose teenage Nao with her current, personality and mannerisms of the memory and now person aligning.

“Fifteen bucks on Nao stalking Kagami’s social media page”, Touka bet quietly in his ear. Hopefully taking his squinting for bad eye-sight.

“She’ll try for sure, he doesn’t have one, I’m the bands social media page manager. Trolling her for a bit- may be fun.” His eyes closed, leaning against the wall next to his cousin again, perhaps in some other dimension somebody was penning an introspective song right now, or maybe even some specific person in this very universe may be feeling the same connection as him…

Nao gushing-“-Kagami-kun I think you may be my soulmate-“-sunny laughter from Minato and low chuckles from beside him at Nao’s antics, maybe Touka could be convinced to play bass during some of their upcoming local shows…

…too fleeting but it made moments like these all the more real.

“Alright guys, one last question from me, one called in by a fan, and then we’ll wrap it up.

Tobirama, I predict ‘Edo Tensei’ getting some major radio play- if it doesn’t I’ll play the next electro-rainbow-kitty-avant garde-rave-pop crap that gets sent to me. You guys aren’t on a label this is mostly DIY-your material, crowdsource funding, Kagami mixed your EP- but this song is going to resonate with a lot of people right now, maybe even anthem of the summer territory. This is a great track, hits you full in the face with the guitar assault, drums that drive you forward also includes some pretty emotionally cutting lyrics which the listener could easily identify and sing along with- solidly an emotional hard core full out assault – Minato your voice is melodic even when singing -not shouting- with raw emotion, and Tobi's trade off forceful -more like shouting- makes a dynamic juxtaposition. The POV sounds like it was written from a personal point of view, not speaking to the general collective you as if the world, but could be interpreted as such, also that the singer is admitting to actions which may have been less than for the greater good, its an unapologetic call to action song. ~Forceful yet catchy.~

Radio friendly is not normally what I’ve heard from you in the past- God of Shinobi was too hard core for the masses. So what the hell were your motivations in penning this Tobi? I’ve known you since high school, you’re always cuttingly specific when you have something to say but can be succinct enough to be cryptic as hell even so, quoting here ' _Sorry comes from sorrow and remorse is an emotion I will never- feel when it applies to the two of us, of our past selves together_ ' and _‘Regrets are for those who won’t push definitions_ ’ two lines of lyrics which kind of sets the tone of the song and then the end chorus ‘ _Rip yourself back from the death in stagnation - Beat your own heart to resurrection - Summon your own soul to defend revolution - You belong in this imperfect world_ ’ .”

Here was the opening, “Like you said, we’re making music that’s ours and we intend to continue that way. The three of us have been playing together for a few years now and we all have things to say, sounds we want to create. The song may be interpreted as not giving in to pressures to conform to someone else’s ideal, stay true to what you believe is right even if you’re going to be considered the bad guy. There’s always two sides to every action, just hope that in the end yours equal the greater outcome. As you mentioned, I’ve been around for a number of years, it gets hard to break out to a wider audience when most of the avenues only allow for the same inane homogeneity. The three of us believe you have to will your wishes into being with work, hopefully I’ve learned at this point in my life that you can still protect your sounds and messages but that also it may be more sustainable in the long run to work to cooperate- not be so abrasive- to maintain that space in the world for songs that speak for what we value. Too soon to say. I do believe that the two guys on the couch over there are brilliant and they should have a shot at something other than obscurity. The kids can interpret it however it speaks to them though, we’ll play how we want and be direct about our feelings and attitudes through the music. We’ll see where that goes.”

Kagami broke in “-AAANNDDD those are AAALLL of the words Tobi will speak for the rest of the year. Thanks Nao-san, Minato and I will carry on, Tobi we’ll get you a portable whiteboard or something.” Ribbing him for his normal brevity, thankfully lightening the blanket of sincerity. Tobirama loosened his crossed arms, he had tightened them in self-consciousness while speaking. Touka and Minato chuckling to his left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flying Thunder God's set may sound like some of these: if you could mash (?) Rise Against's "Good Left Undone" together with "Survive" off of the same album. Basically anything off Sufferer and the Witness by Rise Against is one of the main sounds I imagine Flying Thunder God sound like- that energy. Other songs that I thought of for the chapter mood, not necessarily the fictional band itself: "Know It All" Lagwagon , "Night on Earth" Bouncing Souls , "Totalimmortal" AFI , "Midnight Mile" Bouncing Souls , "American Idiot" Green Day , "Gone" Bouncing Souls , "For Tonight You're Only Here to Know" Distillers , "Don't Change" INXS
> 
> For the song 'Edo Tensei' - the POV is actually Tobirama speaking to Madara and alluding to the tensions and misunderstandings the two of them had during the time of playing together in God of Shinobi. Though he'll not publicly admit it. The allusion the other characters have in regards to this song is that they're pretty sure Tobi meant it as a call-out to Madara, in the spirit of antagonism towards what purpose, is what they're not sure about, however- Izuna, Hikaku and Touka know that Madara will likely be provoked enough to some type of answer- whether this is takes the form of a snide dig publicaly or something more, is the potential drama they're resolving themselves to.  
> Basically Tobirama is poking the dragon and saying sorry not sorry, and that he understands they both had something precious to each other to protect back in the day and they went about it ruthlessly, in Tobi's mind he's laying the truce flag on the table and declaring that he may have grown up into not as much of a shithead. Also he sees Madara appearing to be worn down by the choice he made in going over to the label he's on and not seeming to have much creative freedom.
> 
> As this is self-indulgent drivel, here are the lyrics for 'Edo Tensei' - 
> 
> Lyrics for Edo Tensei :
> 
> Sorry comes from sorrow, and remorse is still an emotion I will never  
> Feel when it applies to the two of us, of our past selves together  
> One perception of protection is someone else’s threat
> 
> Leaving well enough alone, I was never  
> Good at leaving well
> 
> Regrets are for those who won’t push definitions  
> Never seeing through the lies, spiteful ignorance you’d grasp  
> Motivations are subjective, my questions were a trap  
> What was good for them was someone else’s treasons
> 
> Leaving well enough alone, I was never  
> Good at leaving well
> 
> I’ll rip you back from the death of stagnation  
> Beat your heart to resurrection  
> You belong here in this imperfect world
> 
> Life’s a mess normally, to win you should prod until it bleeds  
> Never except the limitations of our fragile mortality  
> Pressing boundaries instead of giving up you named my misdeeds  
> Hold your lungs to bursting to break the surface for a living breath  
> Pushing you to drown was always an eventuality 
> 
> Leaving well enough alone, I was never  
> Good at leaving well
> 
> I’ll rip you back from the death of this stagnation  
> Beat your heart to resurrection  
> I’ll never ask permission  
> You belong here in this imperfect world
> 
> Memory holds the messes  
> You ran for this life’s exits  
> To what you saw as perfections  
> You don’t seem to want it anymore
> 
> Rip yourself back from the death in stagnation  
> Beat your own heart to resurrection  
> Summon your soul to defend revolution  
> You belong in this imperfect world
> 
> Leaving well enough alone, I was never


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter warnings, unless introspective emoting requires warning.

“-from a fan, ‘How did you mix in the bass in post-production to blend as seamlessly, for the new material on the EP seeing as how Tobirama you normally play the bass and the rhythm guitar? Or do you have secrets, is there a 4th band member you’re keeping hidden away?’” The DJ asked, adding as an aside “I kinda paraphrased that last part of the question- the exact phrasing vibed a bit creeper -ish.”

A young clear bari-tenor voice answered, “I use tape to tape and then __ __ software, what you hear on the EP is actually us playing live, it wasn’t digitally recorded, Tobi just played the bass and then we played together the other parts, and we’d go back and record a few more takes if the two pieces didn’t mix well. -For the upcoming live shows, we have some friends who will be playing with us for the songs that need a 4 piece or I guess we’ll strip it down to basic 3 piece and do without the rhythm guitar with Tobi just on bass, that’s normally how we play shows any way. Great question! Whoever asked it, come out to one of our shows and pull me aside, I’ll absolutely geek out with you on production.”

The DJ again, a wrap up, “Thank you to Flying Thunder God for playing our ‘New Music Tuesday’ show, beyond fantastic to see you play again Touka. You can pick up their new EP at any record store right now carrying it- the independent stores?- go there folks. The next show date is this Saturday 9 pm-all ages show- at the ROOTcellar with the sound3, and Bijuu Ate My Baby -Be safe Konoha, cause whatever it is you’re gonna do it anyway.”

An ad for a new nightclub, _‘Women drink free sake 9-10 pm on Fridays!’_ cut in jarringly.

Click, came the sound through his ear buds, he closed the app of the radio broadcast live stream.

Choruses of frogs swelled in the night accented by the occasional mockingbird near the streetlights. He walked farther down the residential street, the house lots transitioning from sharing adjoining fences around the yards to open expanses of greenery- landscaped or more wild woodlands. Houses likely set back down long driveways. Exclusivity- represented by whether or not one could see past the stone walls and lush hedges.

The edges of the night bloomed into the darker expanses, absences of streetlights other than the few sentries at driveway entrances. At his walking pace a distance stretching several minutes of the dark night blanketed him before the perturbation of the next bubble of light. Mockingbirds dropped off their singing no longer provoked into blindly believing the lie of the false unwavering dawn of the streetlights.

He briefly wondered at that, what duration of manipulation was required to change the natural order-impetus- for calling the mockingbirds to sing. As if the mockingbirds in the unrelenting spotlight of the streetlights were like puppets for the city neighborhoods, almost a contractual negotiation- _‘birds to live here in the trees we take care to allow to stay, you may build your nests, but you will sing into the night as well, not able to escape the call of the false dawn of the lights shining for our protection, we do not care for the dark and are comforted by your song at all hours, for we do not either care for silence_ ’? Did the mockingbirds agree to these imagined conditions or did the change in nature gradually become accepted through the passage of generations.

Out here in the greater darkness haunting whoops of the whippoorwills echoed through the early summer- the correct order of things, though the whippoorwills were not able to adapt to the unnatural conditions the mockingbirds could thrive in, the whippoorwill being relegated to the wild wooded edges.

The starlight was bright enough to reflect the diamond scatters in the puddles in the road from the evening rains. Or was the night so black that the star light registered to his eyes as brighter? He tried to avoid stepping in the numerous puddles. The frog choruses were ubiquitous enough so as to ignore them, as if akin to the sound of passing cars in the day time. He had been the only person on the stretch of road for the last 3 miles of his run tonight, however.

Madara Uchiha turned onto the driveway up to his brother’s house. Having covered the out and back distance during the run to arrive yet again at the starting point. Heartbeat slowing from the thunderous tempo during to a now calmer and strong pounding.

Humidity was slowly rising from the ground, not quite cool nor warm but a tepid sort of clammy which felt like a film in the lungs. Entering the front entry of the house, he paused to sit, tendons twinging in protest of the change from rapid movement to a still, despite the transition period during the cool down walk. He chose to attribute the stiffness- which he’d need to remember to stretch out after showering or regret it in the morning- to the recent forced stationary containment on the tour bus. Decidedly not to the fact that he had turned 30 a few months ago. Eight miles in sixty-four minutes was still faster than his younger brother.

He freed the mass of thick black hair from the low tail it had been restrained in-straining against the hair tie in the humidity during his run, more accurately. The house was still and dark, this dark lacking the frantic melodies of the summer night- momentarily deafening in its silence. Rushing water from the shower almost as welcome for the noise as for the sluicing, cleansing warmth.

If he stayed under the shower until long past the time necessary for the stickiness of the run to wash down the drain, well it was attributed to shameless hedonism. Not to comfort of having the sound of the rushing water to focus on, and only the chill of the spray deciding him to step out and dry off.

Clothed and dry, syncing a playlist to the overhead surround stereo of the house, then restricting the play back to the areas he was using, Madara moved down towards the kitchen.

An appreciation kindled in him for his brother’s extravagance of installing the selective speaker system, though he had lectured Izuna on the folly of spending so much money for months after its installation. Now, however, Madara welcomed the sounds which greeted him each step of the way-a woman’s voice-low and gravely- filled with a yearning and a bluesy assertive guitar distorted and demanding attention, filled his ears first. Then a constant stream of songs of various meaning but with slower, lower tempos and tones, some with highly layered sounds others simple in the melody but heavily pulling your attention like a magnet, distracted his thoughts during the filling of his belly and cleanup of the dishes. The same playlist as he readied for bed, but restricting the speakers to only the guest room _(- **your** room seriously, Aniki, do you think I tolerate guests? No, of course the extra room is yours)_. Forgoing stretches for keeping down his dinner- movement on a full belly less appealing now than another shower and ibuprofen in the morning, Madara went to bed. Sleep did come.

The morning would judge whether or not it had been restful.

Madara woke to a clenching sensation- in his calf, goddamned to the five levels of hell his own decision to not stretch before bed. Staggering- hopping which exacerbated his opposite foot to clench up- he reached the en-suite bathroom, for the stash of ibuprofen. He hobbled to the shower, cursing, trying to stretch out his calf as he went, the pressure from walking mercifully relaxing the cramp in his foot. Water now running to get warm, he grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen from the mirrored cabinet, swallowing two with a cupped hand of water from the sink faucet. Wincing at the glimpse of himself in the cabinet mirror, face wan, his eyes appeared even puffier than normal.

Some devil must be taking his pound of flesh for the universe allowing him to reach 30 years.

A thought he allowed himself to entertain whilst the hot water loosened his muscled body, one of his hands running briefly over the scar on his lip, thinking that some devils have cherry red eyes…

Dried and dressed in soft well-worn clothes-a band t-shirt and skinny black jeans-grateful for the mercy of not having to expend energy on dressing stylistically as befit his “girlfriend’s” (the label’s) expectations- Madara heard a clatter from the kitchen signifying the home owner’s return. Not ready for Izuna’s conversation (or to face his own recent childishness from the tour, which was sure to be a topic as soon as Izuna boiled over and realized his big brother wasn’t actually as fragile as he was acting into in private), Madara lowered himself to the plush carpeting of the- _his_ bedroom and commenced the stretching delayed from last night.

Not the most forgiving clothing to be stretching in, the shirt bunched up to reveal paleness of a muscled back and he felt the tug of the waistband of the jeans. Running was a good way to help keep off the creep of the middle age spread _(thirty isn't quite yet middle aged, a bit early in the day for self-flagellation)_ , he felt a slight pinching of the small amount of pudge under his navel. Though his abs were thickly muscled, they were still well defined above the navel, the vanity came to the fore-front of thoughts _(to boost self-esteem?)_ , and he knew his arms were well muscled for all of the lifting he did- evidenced by the frenzied appreciation of the fan attention posted to the web pages or when he stripped off his shirt during a concert. Vanity or not-and hell’s take him the day he had no humility left to admit to himself that he enjoyed the open praise of his body-one he worked to maintain. He’d likely be even more fucked up if he was a rock star who preferred to remain in the shadows and eschewed attention. That was really more Sasori, their drummer’s M.O. in any case, though Sasori’s vice towards maintaining youthfulness had the slight foreshadowing of becoming an obsession, he actually was several years older than Madara’s thirty, though he publicly maintained his age at a perennial twenty-five.

 _‘You could only delay the inevitable until it crashed down on you’_ , Madara’s subconscious had caught onto his tactic of avoidance apparently, sighing he rose from last stretch to greet the morning-and face the music. Tobirama’s new band and radio single was sure to be a topic he would have to begin addressing at some point, Izuna would be a good guinea pig- Madara could trust his brother to helpfully point out if he accidentally showed murderous intent whilst speaking of anything within six degrees of relation to Tobirama Senju.

Madara entered the kitchen to a happy tete-a-tete between two dark haired Uchihas. As was the case with most houses, Izuna’s kitchen was really more a defined space within a larger open floor plan, the hallways conduits feeding into the central portion of the house. The living room another large open area adjoining the kitchen space and in between a low bar island which was perfect for eating at and added a bit of separation from the kitchen to the living room. Izuna was seated at the bar along with none other than their younger cousin Kagami Uchiha. They were engaged in an animated happy conversation and didn’t glance his way as Madara bee-lined for the coffee maker. The bright- Madara glanced at the clock, 10:23 am- mid-morning sunlight streamed in from the skylights and the glass patio doors. He actually had slept. Surprising as he couldn’t remember when the last time he had more than four hours of sleep had occurred. Before the tour in any case.

Stretching out his arms – nice to have enough space to stretch out the full length of his limbs- the ibuprofen working, he actually felt some contentment, his family members chattering in the background. Arms moving from the stretch to brush back some of the thick black hair falling over his face, the motion transferred to a hand covering a yawn. His hand brushed over the scar on his lip again. That recalled a physical memory that he wasn’t going to allow himself to brood upon this morning. Coffee first, an acceptable drug with a tangible bitterness, much healthier than the bitterness of a memory he couldn’t even have the pleasure to feel burning his tongue.

Bags were set on the countertops, and when he pushed them aside-finally-

-the coffee maker was cold, with only a sad film in the pot of the ghost of coffee past.

Laughter had him turn around to the bar from his disappointment. “Aniki, your face! Look to your left, the coffee there is yours and if you want more there’s a to-go box with a dispenser. Come on and join us over here.”

Madara took the cardboard cup of coffee, dark roast from the Akimichi Café, and joined his family at the bar. He had a plate with a warm cinnamon roll shoved towards him, opening his mouth to ask for a knife to cut it in half, those things were huge, on the tip of his tongue. Izuna cut in before he could get much farther than ‘Kn-‘

“You’re going to eat all of that, you’re too skinny don’t give me any of that ‘I’m getting old Izuna, I need to maintain my girlish figure’ crap that I know is going through your head right now.”

Kagami trying to whisper at Izuna through his giggles- failing miserably at the ‘whispering part’, “Oh my god I see it! He does look like a startled hedgehog – who may be murderous, help Izuna.” Catching the glare Madara lasered on him, ‘ _brat- respect your elders._ ’

“Eh, that’s just his look before caffeine and food- it’s hangry not murderous intent. Plus, Kagami you’re a guest in our home so we’ll send you home in mostly the same condition as you entered.”

“Thanks!” Whether that was for Izuna’s assurance of only minimal harm or Madara sneaking a third of the cinnamon roll onto Kagami’s plate, while Izuna stood to get a refill of coffee. Well as he said, Kagami was a guest and if Izuna wanted Madara to ‘eat all of his vegetables’ he’d have to pay attention.

His sharp-eyed brother just let the act of defiance- or sharing – slide with a side-eye once back. Izuna appeared to be on the way back to rested after the stress of the tour, the shadows under his eyes were diminishing and he had some color back to his pale skin, some of the color likely a slight sunburn after the noon run yesterday. Tension that had been present only noticed now because of its current absence. He looked good. Madara felt his coffee and cinnamon roll going down a bit easier, no hard lumps to swallow around. A hearty interest kindled in him to defend his plate from Kagami’s attempts at it, elbowing the younger man.

So, of course Izuna decided to continue the conservation ending the pleasant lull. “Me and Hikaku ate your cinnamon rolls from yesterday, Aniki. Hikaku says it’s the toll for ‘crying into **his** sake’ and “wiping our tears of ineffableness’ onto his couch, also you owe him for depleting his liquor. Oh and he’s boycotting us until after August, because he ‘can’t deal with the emoting from two successful grown men AND the terror his remedial class befalls on him at the same time’ or ‘he’ll become that guy in the song about hating Mondays’.” Madara winced at the description, but he had mentally committed earlier to owning up to his childishness associated with the tour.

Chewing a large bite of the delicious buttery, sweet and spicy mentioned pastry, Madara just raised a droll eyebrow for Izuna to clarify. He may also have mumbled “What cinnamon rolls?” Did he drunk order food again, he certainly woke up- not sober- yesterday.

“You ordered some and Akimichi-san didn’t have enough drivers, so she asked if I could just take them home since Touka and I were there for lunch.” Izuna calmly drinking coffee and Kagami looking back and forth between the two of them, his eyes wide. ‘ _Welcome to the Uchiha clan Kagami.’,_ Madara thought with a small smile.

Madara full, pushed the last quarter of the cinnamon roll towards Kagami, “Hope you like sports, Kagami, it makes it easier if you’re already used to being a spectator when faced with multiple Uchihas.”

“Yeah, Kagami-chan, we’ve been neglectful, you’re MUCH OLDER cousins need to remedy all of the time not spent together, now that you’re in town.” Izuna teased. Kagami realized the vulnerability in his position seated in the middle of them both. Like a cute fluffy bunny, amidst wolves. Madara played up the looming, leaning forward with his broad shoulders and muscled forearms.

Izuna’s motor-mouth gave Kagami a relief- _Could the kid’s eyes get any wider?_ “Aniki, though what the fuck with ordering blueberry cinnamon rolls of all things as well, were you drunk? They were good, just weird, not sure I want to repeat the experience.”

And yes, Kagami’s eyes could get wider-with every revelatory word tripping from his mouth, as if he too only realized what he was implying when he heard the string of words coming from his mouth, “Oh! Hey those are from Tobi, he said they’re you’re favorite. And we watched your shows, although you probably don’t want to know about bootleg videos- anyway Tobi thought you looked worn down and too skinny, like Izuna said, and that you make a cuter hedgehog resemblance when your cheeks are normally chubby….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs which may set the mood for chapter, YMMV:  
> "Walking With A Ghost" Tegan and Sara  
> "Airplanes (feat. Haley Williams)" B.O.B.   
> "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" Dum Dum Girls (Smiths cover)  
> "You're Gonna Need Someone On Your Side" Morrissey   
> "I'm Made of Wax, Larry What Are You Made Of?" A Day To Remember -mostly because the title is a callout  
> "The Hunger" Distillers  
> "Break It To You Gently" Camera Obscura
> 
> For the morning scene - something happy, in keeping with the early aughts emo/pop/punk most tracks from Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard may work, or if wanting a more worldly theme as per most coffee shops back in the day, "Iuliana" Te Vaka is pure sunshine


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some profanity and mentions of drug use. Chapter is mostly an exploration of inner angst. Baked goods used as a plot device were thoroughly wrecked and devoured.  
> Soundtrack: “King of Wishful Thinking” New Found Glory (Go West cover) , Neon Trees “Mess Me Up” , “A Decade Under The Influence” Taking Back Sunday , “All Downhill From Here” New Found Glory , “Blood and Thunder” Mastodon , “Brian Wilson” Bare Naked Ladies , “Playing God” Paramore , “Bird House In Your Soul” They Might Be Giants , “Top of the World” Shonen Knife (Carpenters cover)

Izuna had experienced moments of horror. Of adrenaline-fueled fury or of deepest pleasure. Moments wherein time stretched to the limits the fabric holding the particles of existence together, freezing to reveal the world’s absent spaces between the threads, and himself at an infinitely higher vibration of motion. As if he could perceive every finger on a trigger to react in anticipation of the trajectory of a thrown fist or a first kiss.

Witnessing his older brother fall off a bar stool as his younger cousin’s brain caught up to his mouth was not an expected catalyst for this sensation.

Maybe the perception of a freeze frame in time was in fact a symptom of oxygen deprivation. He remembered to breathe, the burning of his eyes triggered a blink, swirling black dots in his vision coalescing into the afterimage of his older brother’s cheeks reddening- that split second of stunned vulnerability burned into Izuna's memories.

Kagami was clueless of the bubble recklessly burst wide fucking open by his tossing around sunny commentary cloaked in friendship. Commentary so casually tossed, because of the weight of the subject, for Izuna it was as brutal as a sharp rock hurtled at the window of a spaceship, violently bursting the vital stasis which was a willfully deep ignorance of that certain subject. And Tobirama Senju and his preoccupation with what made his brother tick was the chill sucking void of space lurking outside that now burst bubble.

Izuna's temper flickered at the trickery orchestrated to use his innocent baby cousin to flir-TAUNT his brother- never mind that Kagami allied more to Tobirama than had a connection with the two Uchiha brothers- well some banked grudges only needed the smallest stir to reignite.

The impertinent familiarity in which Tobirama tossed others' pasts into interactions with people who admittedly had zero knowledge of the wars the Senju and Uchiha brothers brought upon each other at the dissolution of God of Shinobi stoked the banked coals of that grudge.

Izuna and Tobirama had existed in similar orbits under a truce for several years now. Parlaying to reach an understanding. Their truce had matured beyond the blind hatred and mistrust of each other’s motivations. Or at least they'd sublimated their hostilities, since they no longer openly called the other a treasonous bastard. Truce and understanding did not necessarily equate to forgiveness, after all. But Izuna had long ago come to terms with the fact he himself carried culpability as a driving force which broke up their- his brother’s- first band. He had started the cycle, hammering a spike through the friendship of his brother and Hashirama, which in turn spurred the other younger brother to heighten protections of his own big brother. It was a goddamned arms race. Merry fucking band of brothers, indeed.

Presently Izuna rode bitch with guilt over the struggles his brother had fallen into because of that. Madara feeling pushed to the edge of a precipice proved cunning enough to find an escape route towards the wolves salivating for him to flee their way. Wolves like Kaguya and the Zetsu label, gleeful over the destruction of a partnership to obtain the powerhouse of a musical talent, using him to carry their own superstar agendas.

Never mind that the bubble insulating from these Things That They Did Not Mention, would not have been busted if Izuna hadn’t pushed- _always pushing_ \- to understand some minor quirk of his brother’s out of curiosity (mostly to tease Madara on his silliness and habit of drunk ordering food). His own unhealthy obsession with knowing everything that made his brother tick, perhaps. Patterns developed over years of them against the world.

For years Izuna watched over his brother and watched as Tobirama watched Madara. To what purpose did the younger Senju brother persist in his surveillance? For certain protecting his own brother’s agendas started it, but now- did he make it known again now simply as a practice of science, observation ingrained in his nature? Was he just returning to the old thread of a discarded argument and trying to have the last word? Izuna found in this moment he did not trust the younger Senju brother and their former bandmate (friend, brother-in-arms), former enemy (betrayer and betrayed), when it came to attention given to **his** big brother. That **_Fucking_** Thunder God song was in no way innocuous. If you’d lived it the lyrical implications were a neon sign.

Maybe he was over-reacting. Perceiving a threat of Tobirama Senju’s psychological warfare through the gift of his brother’s preferred comfort food and a new song could have been him indulging in dramatics to distract himself from a feeling of heartache on behalf of his brother.

Or he was trying to distract himself from the embarrassment of the thought of his brother and any connection to a romantic interest- as the younger brother, he conversely took to a fierce protection of his aniki, especially when it came to areas of vulnerability, matters of the heart most especially.

Madara had a deplorable track record in the department of romance, there was the unrequited _thing_ which had spanned his adolescence, to struggling with acceptance of himself (and Izuna had gleefully shut down the venomous mutterings of his elder family members regarding his brother’s ‘attachments’), to the hole that was his sham of a fake relationship with the pop diva.

Though Madara did claim to have been enamored of her and genuine in his affections early on, Izuna wished he could believe the same regarding Kaguya, but she seemed only to exhibit _affectations_. Honestly if Izuna allowed himself to ponder he wasn’t sure his thirty-year old brother wasn’t still a virgin.

Maybe willful ignorance of years of unresolved tensions in all of their life’s aspects was like so much overgrowth as it made ripe kindling for the ignition of a raging fire. And some fucking people were all too ready to carelessly toss out an incendiary device to test if the fuel was ready to burn. Damn the name of science to the hell of foxes and wolves.

So, time had slowed for Izuna-

Madara fell off his perch on the bar stool.

They made a comical frozen snapshot, three grown men in states of surprise – and embarrassment – eyes widened, mouths parted- poised to ignore the implication.

Kagami had an arm outstretched ineffectually late to prevent Madara’s fall.

Pale tops of bare feet were the only visibility of his brother’s broad frame. From Izuna’s perch, the bar and Kagami blocked the view to the floor. The floor which the impressive (he was yet again on the cover of the leading rock magazine) rock star Madara Uchiha, was currently half-sprawled upon, like an upset bowl of ramen, knocked off of his seat by a vapidly delivered second-hand comment which may or may not be translated as a flirtation – or more likely it was meant as an antagonism, like flicking rubber bands.

Golden sunbeams flitted around the house, bird song filtered in from the outside, it was 11:30 am on a Wednesday. A lifeline appeared to save them from the heavy tension.

“Ha ha, um just joking, that may have been quoted from **Hashirama,** I was super stoned and actually have memories of being on a pirate ship chasing a living island full of yakuza animals and a waterfall where you could face your true self and my true self was naked so I may not be the most reliable narrator and I think I said something wrong – but whatever it was it was ABSOLUTELY **Hashirama** who said it and put in the delivery order! I think his two -year old was more mature that night.” Baby cousin was fast- in the verbal backpedal- he’d also retreated to the living room, ensconced now behind the couch.

Izuna desperately grasped the weakly delivered metaphorical rope and pulled himself out of drowning in angst, lifeline extended to his brother as well.

The entire spectacle of the mentioning of that of which they did not speak, spanned three breaths. Madara had the air of a man who would happily accept a concussion if hitting his head wiped the awkwardness of the past minute out of existence. His natural scowl back in place and all traces of vulnerability gone except for a tightness around the eyes -which could be attributed to pain from the fall.

Izuna threw his brother a rope, in turn he was shrugged off helping up said brother.

“Aniki are you okay?” A grunt in response. Madara jerkily smoothed his clothing back into place, his hair sticking up spikier than normal due to him rubbing the sore spot where the back of his head contacted the floor in his subconscious’ attempt at oblivion.

Taking the coffee cups to the sink for washing, miffed at the shrug-off and moving on to the next ignition point, the _planned_ topic of the morning, Izuna’s voice was deceptively measured and flat, “SO Kagami do you have some mail from your mother’s address for Aniki?”

Another loaded topic, but one he knew the pitfalls of, the youngest Uchiha handed off a paper bag (one of the same bags Madara had pushed out of the way earlier on his mission for coffee) which had been sat on the kitchen counter to his eldest cousin.

Madara was crowded in, the kitchen counter at his back and at his shoulders Izuna and Kagami penned him on each side. Trapped, slanted black eyes narrowed in warning, his scowl turned into a glower. Resistance was futile though, the younger Uchiha brother was not to be deterred from the main topic he had planned to address. Izuna reached under his arm for the bag of letters and pulled one out.

Brandishing the missive, “When were you going to let me know you’d sold your loft and permanently changed your address to Aunt Ami’s house?” Accusation slipping into his voice, another wince from his older brother and- _great we’ve reached regression stage: hiding behind his hair and hunched shoulders._ A thrown look was caught by Kagami, _proper Uchiha, quick on the uptake when restraining family_ , they each took an arm, and frog marched the sputtering older man to the couch. Bracketing him again. Madara bristled, struggling roughly, “Fuck, get off me, you haven’t been properly reunited with the koi pond Izuna, I’ll-”

And that- _detracting again_ \- was the stoking which emblazoned the banked grudges of the past month for Izuna “-you’ll get us and our little dogs too. Well I’ll tell you since you **apparently** live here in **my** house now, since you **secretly sold yours** ,” He was shouting, volume rivaling any that his brother could produce. Madara’s snarl cut off into a sneer. Oh, now he was standing over his brother. Kagami escaping to an armchair. “You’re going to sit down, shut the fuck up and listen to your two family members who care about you! Fucking puerile antics- I’m sick of picking you up after you shut yourself inside your own head, **let me in! Or better yet let yourself out!** Stop hiding from your family, what the hell, change your address and **I** have to find out incidentally! At least **tell me** what you’re hiding from!” From the crushing grab of the label and the fans, from the past month, the last two years, four years, from twelve years ago, from blood obligations… His own shouts ringing his ears, the timbre of voice a bit soggy towards the end. Izuna had boiled over, breathing hard, a slight tremor from restraining his words from becoming anything more cutting, and the receiver of his rage, his brother-

Madara was-

-hugging him. Transporting him back twelve years, sheltered in his older brother’s broad embrace, just like during the aftermath of more siblings lost to conflicts the world bred. So many, many more things they did not discuss in the present, other firepits left to smolder.

Izuna had always had a flashbang temper, quick to explode and then smolder, _never extinguished_ , but relief did usually come quick after the eruption. He released his breath and Madara after a tight squeeze. Izuna ducked against the couch at his hair being ruffled.

Released, his brother took up the letters. Beside him on the couch, Izuna glimpsed bills, some statements of closing of accounts, a refund on rent deposit, and postcards from fans. He took a measured deep breath and released it slowly. Looking closely at the bent spiky haired head over the mail with Madara’s name attached to a distant Aunt’s home.

Tired, his brother looked tired. But he was recognizable as Madara, instead of the hollow-eyed ghost haunting the backstage and the tour bus- vitality returning in the action of comforting him, in teasing his cousin, in the blushing from an implied gesture of care. **This** tired was worlds of improvement over **that** bone-weary exhaustion from a week ago.

Madara flopped back against the couch posture more open now, head upturned, hair spilled over the back of the couch. An air of resignation- no, acceptance, _maybe he’s ready to move forward,_ scrubbing a hand over his face, lingering on pulling at a scar at his lip, he sighed, “I meant to tell you, after the tour- now- my contract was coming up. It’s been…lonely in the capitol, felt like an exile. I didn’t want to be a burden to you,” Izuna heard the implied you have your own life with a significant other, “I guess I’m ready to rebel against the restrictions the label has me under, so I intended to use a decoy for my whereabouts after the tour. I apologize to you for using your mother Kagami.”

The reply was a sunny smile and pat on the head to wave off the transgression. Madara blinked in the face of cheerful absolution. “Kaa-san said to tell you that she understands, ‘s why she let it go on for two months. She totally gets hiding out. At least the pressures our own family puts upon us for clan glory bullshit, why we lived so far away. Anyways she said she’ll answer mail for you if you want to keep up the ruse. And heads up that this religious guy was coming around and asking for you, kinda creepy only dresses like a priest in black and white. Her payment is you guys calling her sometimes or sending a secret letter in code, she misses you guys and remembers you running around as a chubby toddler trying to brush her cows.” Kagami was braiding Madara’s hair, standing behind the couch. _Approved tactic Kagami, lull into security and hold hostage by the hair._

Sunlight beaming down on the couch, warmth when settling into a matching sprawl, Izuna directed apologies for his outburst. Madara accepted them with a single slanted eye and the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, brow still wrinkled. Shuffling through the stack of handmade postcards, even accounting for the thicker ones made from cereal boxes, there was a stack about a half inch thick. Izuna grabbed some from his brother, “I thought the label was making sure fans didn’t get your home address?” The homemade postcards, slightly smelled of patchouli, a round bubbly handwriting brightly greeted in missives of inanity – from Hashirama _‘Hey Mads, what do think about this melody?’_ doodles of a musical arrangement- actually not half bad- _‘When u r done with band come over the tree is close to bloom!’_ another one with a doodle of a smiling tree and a smiling flower, yet another _‘We watched ur show on tv Mito let us yay, ‘Waki-chan tried to pull your hair through the screen’_ this one had a doodle of two big trees a sapling and a tv haloed by music notes, the last five took on a soggier tone _‘where r u, I miss u, u missed the tree flowering, Mito said I should keep writing to you but give space if ur mad at me- but it might not be about me- I hope u r ok’_ and various doodles of sad trees being hugged by hedgehogs…

… **all** the postcards were from Hashirama… “How did he get Aunt Ami’s address?”

Kagami appeared suspiciously devoted to securing the teeny ending tail of the braid, intent on the futility of keeping Madara’s stiff mane tamed. Right. Probably something to do with his band mate. Again.

Postcards returned to his perusal, Madara had a softness ghosting at the corners of his mouth and eyes, brow smooth and untroubled. A murmur lost in reminiscence but directed over his shoulder to his cousin, “Thanks Kagami. I’ll have to reply to these, or he’ll show up at Aunt Ami’s next.”

“No worries, cuz. Tob-uh, **told!** - **be** cause **Mi** to **told** him no road trips. Or so I heard.”

That tightness was back around Madara’s eyes, “You guys staying at Hashirama’s?” There was a strange nuance to his tone, nostalgia- _no close, but something else_.

Seeing all the- _goofy-_ postcards from Hashirama to his brother erased some of Izuna’s ever-present guilt of his transgressions past. Over the past four years since the disastrous ending of their first band, he had not known the extent of the revival of any friendship between the older Uchiha and older Senju. Izuna had effectively been interacting with both Madara (his band mate and brother) and with Hashirama (former band mate and now casual acquaintance through Touka) entirely separately, as if each had always been absolutely unaware of the other person. Izuna never brought up Hashirama or Madara to the other, and he either had deliberately tuned out each of them mentioning the other or they had in fact never done so in his presence. 

Since the disbandment there was only once in which Madara and Hashirama had been in the same place together. Two years ago- the first birthday party for Hashirama and Mito’s son. As ugly as the interactions between the God of Shinobi band members were at the end, they were essentially in a cold war of threats and arguments and none had ever acted physical violence upon each other. But a cold war is only ever a long game of chicken in which the aggressors are just waiting for the slightest push towards an eruption of violence.

Izuna had not been there when it happened. But he knew enough. That push had come from Tobirama, always prodding and poking at scabs- it had led to Hashirama standing the victor at the end.

Izuna had picked up Madara several days later, relieving their cousin Hikaku from care-taker duties. Physically Madara had been minorly wounded, spiritually it seemed a gaping hole had been torn from him. Izuna had resorted to the tactic of deliberate mental isolation of Uchiha from Senju afterwards in order to maintain his new relationship with Touka. He guessed his Pollyanna days may be numbered now, perhaps a bond of understanding had been on the mend though between his brother and his brother’s old friend. Hopefully it could survive the inevitable clash of himself and Tobirama, Izuna thought ruefully knowing himself well enough that he would idiotically respond to any perceived attack from the younger Senju, even now. If his brother was the target.

Maybe now time and distance could allow for something in between ignorant truce and hatred to persist. _Let’s test if maturation means you’re not still that raging jackass, Izuna_. Though he wasn’t so sure to put as much faith in the younger Senju.

Boycott bedamned he was totally going to bug Hikaku some more about helping him write that concept album about the clashes of epic mythological gods, at very least this summer may get him some good emoting material for it… Sublimation was the musician’s prerogative or some crap, right? _Was it wrong that he’d happily curl into Touka’s strong arms like a kitten until August ended?_

In the meantime, how deeply had Madara and Hashirama’s connection been resuscitated, when previously they were as close as brothers, Izuna couldn’t tell. What had been revealed a moment ago though, from snooping his brother’s mail is that a consistent and open line of communication between them was normal and expected. Via Hashirama’s handmade postcards, their weird old-fashioned method of talking was revived. A reflection of the friendship from their younger days, his brother had always been odd no matter what image of a bad-ass he tried to project, Izuna mused. As kids they used to skip rocks with messages on them across the waterway canal behind their families’ properties.

Thinking of kids, Izuna guessed that Hashirama and Mito’s spawn had to be two now, going on three. He wondered if the mention of said kid in that postcard- a physical manifestation of Mito and Hashirama’s marriage- was the origination of the weird tone in his brother’s voice. Glancing over at Madara during his reverie, Izuna saw the man’s broad shoulders hunched over again with elbows on knees, absently worrying at his scarred lip. He’d neatly stacked the postcards and letters on the table. A stink eye and an elbow to the gut were Izuna’s reward for knuckling his older brother’s head. That and the lifting of the melancholy, he’d rather tease his brother to the point of the threat of throwing him in the pond than allow him to brood over a Senju any day.

Kagami long since finished with his hairstyling, was back to sprawled out in the opposite arm-chair and answered Madara’s question. He had also picked up on the nuance of the tone of the question- _whatever that mood was_ \- shifty eyed in his rambling answer, “Yeah-us band guys- uh, all three of us from Flying Thunder God. And Tsunade’s home from school for the summer and Kushina may come down next month too but her band still has some gigs- paying too- at the local festivals in Uzushio and her summer internship, but its good she isn’t around here yet or that guy would just gaze at her all spacey like and miss an entire verse in our songs during shows. He actually ended up singing half a song made up on the spot about her during one of our shows…”

“You know you’re welcome here Kagami, sounds like that’s a full house”, _of Senjus,_ Izuna internally shuddered at the thought of all the people who also likely would partake in the intoxication that Hashirama indulged in when he had an occasion to “share in the roots of the world forest” with _test subjects_ \- friends. Maybe Kagami could be convinced to bring over some of the new strain of bud that Hashirama- _and Mito_ \- were growing, Hikaku wouldn’t smoke with them but he’d probably cave against his boycott and hang out. All in the name of family solidarity of course, Kagami had another decent cousin to be introduced to after all…

Visions of a family jam session including Touka, distracted Izuna, he didn’t notice the briefly calculating look on his younger cousin’s face at the invitation. Only the sunny answer was noted as hoped for. While Madara and Izuna had many Uchiha relatives still existing, there was not any relationship except with Hikaku. They both had a hunger for connections with blood family but found too many of them to be distastefully invested in the nobility of the Uchiha name and business. Kagami seemed more genuine, Izuna wanted to keep him.

**Author's Note:**

> The impetus for writing this story is mostly heavy nostalgia, along with another passing birthday and a love for music. Summer of quarantine, is possibly not actually the name of an emo band from back in the first decades of the 2000s...  
> ...but for some reason this year my playlists have the music from the aughts and early '10s on heavy rotation. References of music styles will mainly be punk, emo, metal, and alt-rock as bands which have a great impact on my own life's soundtrack are in these genres.  
> Personally I really didn't hang out "on the scene" much, so if any one reading through this has particular commentary on my gratuitous repetition of terminology referencing "the scene" or more appropriate descriptions, please comment.


End file.
